Worth the Risk_ A Contemporary - Megan Hart Page 0,60

dearest friend in the months following Jason’s death. She shopped online, kept in touch online, joined grief support groups, banked and rented movies online. She’d also, more than once, looked up names, addresses and telephone numbers on the Net.

Her bed called her—her vast, empty bed—and though her eyes drooped with weariness, the thought of sliding between sheets unwarmed by a companion did not appeal to her. The girls were with Arden’s parents for the entire weekend, a treat they loved and she tolerated because she knew they loved it. Without the pull of small hands and constant childish chatter she felt more than alone. She felt lonely.

However, Maeve and Aislin wouldn’t be home until Sunday morning, more than twenty-four hours from now, and she had no plans for tomorrow other than finishing up a dress she’d been commissioned to sew. She could sleep in tomorrow. The search would only take a few minutes...

Her feet moved before she knew it, and her fingers found the familiar grooves of the keyboard buttons. It took her two seconds to pull up her favorite search engine, to type in his name and their town, and to get a list of possible matches.

Oh. Connex. Her lip curled, just a little. Arden had a profile on the popular social media site, but she’d never even updated it and hadn’t logged in since...well, probably since shortly after Lida had encourage her to set one up as a way of keeping in touch, long-distance. That had been a long time ago. And yet there it was, the top hit.

She clicked on it and logged in, surprised she even remembered how. That brought up another screen with a list of Shane Donners who had Connex accounts. She squinted, trying to see from the tiny avatar photos if she recognized any of them. She hit the jackpot on her fourth try.

“Bachelor Number Four,” she murmured, looking at the screen.

He had a business page, very tech-savvy of him though she guessed she shouldn’t be surprised. The world revolved around social media these days, and she’d been told often enough she should have a site for her business. Shane N. Donner, owner/operator Donner’s Specialty Construction. The page gave an address, a phone number and of course, the ability to send him an email message through his profile.

First, though, she stalked his photos.

Nothing too personal. Shots of homes he’d built or renovated. Projects like decks and bathrooms. No pictures of him, and she guessed that made sense since he was trying to promote his work, not his face.

Then, there, one small photo of him on a job site. Dirty denim jeans, work gloves, wife-beater T-shirt, muscles and sweat and...guh. An enormous wrench. If that wasn’t Freudian, she didn’t know what was. Arden swallowed hard, wishing he’d been turned toward the camera instead of half-away, showing only a part of his profile.

The problem with sites like Connex, she thought, was that it made creeping on someone just too damned easy. Her fingers flew over the keys, typing out a message before she could think to stop herself. Something simple, bland, nonaggressive.

Hi. How are you?

“Will you go with me? Yes, No, Maybe, circle one,” she muttered, well-aware of how her words echoed in the empty house. “Just like in eighth grade, geez.”

She hesitated before hitting send, thought of erasing the message entirely, but again the sting of winter wind slipped across her skin and the taste of smoke and bourbon made her swipe her tongue across her lips. It had been really great sex. If it had ended somewhat sourly...well, they’d been young. It was a long time ago. And there was nothing wrong, really, with just a little note? Just to say hi to an old friend?

Except Shane Donner had never, not exactly, been her friend. He’d been both more and less than that, an enigma, a short-term lover who’d nevertheless rocked her world, made her laugh and made her cry. A man she’d never forgotten.

With determination, Arden clicked send. She sat back and stared at the desktop wallpaper, a montage of film clips from John Wick.

“Keanu, if you’re coming for me, you’d better hurry up. I don’t think I can save myself for you much longer.”

Leaving him to ponder that, Arden went upstairs, let the shower wash away the smoke and booze and her tears. Then she slipped into her bed to find a way to make her dreams stop being nightmares.

Chapter 2

Soft kisses whispered up Arden’s thighs, toward the apex of tight